


Deadlock Dog

by gnomeicecream



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackmail, Bondage, Chastity Belt, Chubby McCree, Edging, Forced Orgasms, Genji is not being paid enough to deal with this, Hand Feeding, I'm making waffles, Kennels, Kidnapping, Leashes and Collars, M/M, McCree is somehow both Shrek and Donkey, Oral Sex, Pet Play, Ransom, Service Top, Slut Shaming, Spanking, We'll stay up swapping manly stories and in the morning, asphixiation, deadlock mccree au, emotions psha what no, if they are not in the shower they are in bed the fic, non con/dub con, protective lil bro genji, responsible pet ownership by the self help section, small penis humiliation, tiny dick huge dick, western themed photo shoot saves the day, young hanzo au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-26 14:06:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13859304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnomeicecream/pseuds/gnomeicecream
Summary: Hanzo stops to think things through before murdering his brother. It does not go well.Being on the run doesn't last long before he is captured for his bounty by the Deadlock gang, but it seems that their leader, Jesse McCree, might just have a better use for him. He's always wanted a dog.





	1. Ante Up-Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be periodically updated as chapters are posted. Ages are canon to however old each of them would have been at this point in the lore, my best guess about 24 for Jesse and 25 for Hanzo. 
> 
> This was written with the help of a co author who does not wish to have her name associated with such filth at this time.

The last thing anyone expected was for Genji to be the temperate voice of reason.

Hanzo’s hand trembled on the grip of his sword sheathed at his hip. The elders had made Hanzo’s duty clear. Genji lived a carefree life with no regards to the family’s criminal empire and was a dangerous liability to the family. He must show that as the new oyabun he would be a strong leader who could make such hard choices.

But standing before Genji, his little brother whom he cared for, trained with, it took everything he had to slide free his blade.

“If you will—if you will not comply then I will do what I must.” His hesitation was clear but his expression hard. Hanzo watched, waiting; he had no will to fight.

“What you must, huh. You’ve never made a choice in your goddamn life! This is crazy and you know it.” Genji’s sword is held steady with conviction, the faint green glow of his dragon awake and watchful along the blade. But he also waits. He won’t be the first to strike. 

Time and clouds pass, blinking out the sun then returning. Genji wanted to joke, let the tension out, like he used to. ‘Ne, anija, don’t you think this is like that show where-?’ 

They were alone. Did Hanzo not want anyone to see his shame as he killed his brother, or was he giving him a chance to run? 

Hanzo dipped his head and lowered his shoulders, his form completely falling and taken off his guard completely. Those words sunk in harder and colder than he expected it to. But he was right. If his father was fine with Genji's life, why was it suddenly a burden once their father has passed? 

“Why did they ask you to do this?” Genji could see Hanzo breaking apart, his hands trembling spreading to the rest of his body. 

“We must present a strong image, your actions are-”

“Worth like, a finger at most! You don’t kill somebody for partying to hard. Come on, what..I mean, actually, what reason do the elders have for wanting me out of the way? For making you the one to do it?”

Hanzo opened his mouth to reply but then couldn’t find what he wanted to say. So Genji kept talking.

“It’d make you look really terrible actually, you know? You won’t be respected by the lower brothers, and isolated from senior lieutenants that won't trust you. And what else will the elders ask you to do, once they know you will even go that far if they ask? Kinda sounds like a recipe for a puppet.”

“Wha-Genji, how-what are you-?”  
“What, just cause I want to do my own thing, I can’t pay attention all the sudden?”

Another tense moment passes while Hanzo thinks, trying to fit these new pieces into his mental jigsaw puzzle. Who truly has his best interest at heart? Genji, maybe. But who has the clans best interest? It has to be the elders, hasn’t it? Did they think him incapable?

Hanzo sheathed his sword. “I-You are my brother.”

“Holy shit!” A second. Two. Genji gulped air back into his lungs and let his sword fall to the ground with a clatter. ‘Hanzo will be pissed that you treated your sword that way,’ is the semi hysterical thought in his mind. “Ah. You. You too, you know?” 

He makes a weak gesture between them, half steps forward. Another. Until he can reach across the distance between them and put both hands on his brothers shoulders. “It’s gonna be ok. I have, well had a plan. Gonna disappear, you know. Take some money, go somewhere else. Become someone else. I didn’t think that, this. You know. You. Would happen. But I uh. I don’t think you’re going to be ok if I leave you here, anija.”

“We can call it an exile. That should please the elders well enough and..and I won’t look weak to the clan.” Hanzo's heart sank in his chest. He took a faltering step back away from Genji's grasp. It was selfish, but he could only look out over the long years ahead of him. He would be alone.

“What about you?” Genji didn’t even know he had been considering it till the words were out of his mouth, but once they were, he realized he wouldn’t settle for any less. “I won’t leave you!” He pulls his brother into a tight hug. His eyes sting with the force of his emotions breaking loose in ugly tears. He never was a pretty crier. He clings to his brother, eyeliner running and ruining the pristine white cotton of his yukata. 

Hanzo shut his eyes. He held onto Genji firmly, as he slowly came to his resolve. “I will..speak to the elders. It may not be as dire as it seems. It’ll be ok, little brother.”

\------

It’s been three hours since the plane had set down, and one since the last forklift had rumbled away loaded down with pallets.The map in Genji’s new phone says they are in the USA, in a southern little square called New Mexico. A shadow drops onto the tarmac, catches several bags, then is joined by a second shadow. Loaded down with camping gear, fake IDs, cash in several nations’ currency, weapons, food and water, and clothes, they keep out of sight of the few workers and security cameras as ‘Ryutoru Tojo’ and ‘Ryutoru Goro’ sneak into the main concourse. Then it is a simple matter to hail a cab, find a hotel, and let the exhaustion of their flight catch up to them in the form of thirteen hours of sleep interrupted only for snacks and the bathroom.

It turns out that running away from home is only exciting for the first part where you are terrified of being discovered. The meeting with the elders had gone even more poorly than anyone could have anticipated, except maybe Genji. If they could not have a willing puppet, it seemed, they would settle for an unwilling one who had proved his brother could be used as leverage. With the help of the dragons, and clan members unaware or unbought by the elders, they escaped. Hours and miles later the tension has left Genji bored and restless with energy that needs to be burned off.

“Hey hey, Aaaaanija. Let’s go do something!”

Hanzo turned his head on his pillow, eyes too heavy to properly open. Maybe you could sprain your feelings, after feeling to much? He felt numb where he didn’t ache."Mmn.." He groaned in his throat and closed his eyes again. For a moment he refused to get up but then Genji was bouncing on the bed, making further sleep impossible. Indulging him is the path of least resistance.

“What is something?” He said, voice muffled between the pillows. “We need to be careful, the clan will have people looking for us.”

“What, we can actually go!?” Genji pumps his fist in the air excitedly, having anticipated a longer struggle. “I have saved our hotel in my phone so that’ll be fine.” He hops onto the bed more, jostling Hanzo in his attempts to get vertical. “The tourist guidebook is useless, it just talks about things like museums and culture, like the Weaponry of the West show open I kinda wanna go to and downtown needs to be experienced-”

Genji keeps up a stream of chatter till the bathroom door shuts in his face, then starts up again when a towel clad Hanzo emerges some time later, ending when he is also pushed into the bathroom to make himself ready to face the world. 

“New Genji, new life, new nail polish and eyeliner!” 

“Only you would pack yellow and green eyeliner when fleeing assassins.”

“Jealousy is an ugly emotion, brother. Here, I got you ‘Sultry Midnight’.”

“...Thanks.”

They decide to walk, the better to take in the city of ‘Sante Fe’. It’s closer to lunchtime then breakfast, so they have tacos from a vendor. Genji tries the recommended ‘sweet tea’ and declares “Its disgusting! And cold!” but drinks two glasses anyway.

“So...I guess we...See if this is where we want to live? Get a residence?” He asks.

Hanzo tiredly drinks his tea and sets the cup down quietly, "Mm.. We shouldn’t stay in the first place we land. This is a big city with many people, which include criminals, bounty hunters, police authorities and more. We should look for something small. We are just here to gather our bearings and move on as soon as possible." 

He casually spins the ice in his cup with the straw as he speaks, "Perhaps a small town to the north. I hear the 'mountain states' are more rural. We should do some research when we got back to the hotel."

Hanzo rubbed his eyes. " Now, let’s not waste time and do some further exploring," He stood and tossed his empty paper plate into the trash and picked up his foam cup. "Where to?"

The lack of any arcades is met with bewildered frustration, and 11 o’clock is too early for even the most determined of night lifers, so they eventually walk up at the museum that had caught Genji’s eye in the brochure. Hanzo seems happy, at least, talking more to himself then Genji as they look at plaques and panoramas with fully dressed up Cowboys and Indigenous Peoples.

“They remade a lot of classic films from home, using cowboys as stand ins for ronin. The Kurosawa-” Hanzo begins to explain.

“Yeah that’s neat you fucking nerd.”

They split up with promises to meet back at the entrance in an hour when Genji spots the ‘Costumes and Fashion’ hall and can’t be moved until he has gotten to try some. Hanzo continues on, having no desire to have his picture taken as ‘an authentic cowboy.’ Several rooms later he pauses in front of a display of the evolution of the six shooter revolver. A small group of people enter from the other side, talking too loudly for a museum but...Maybe they are actors? They match the Wild West theme, at least. One, tall and scruffy, breaks off from the others to take in the display. Apparently, Americans do just carry guns visibly in public.

“The gun that won the west.” The scruffy man points to his own gun, then one that is similar in the line up. He must have seen him looking.

"Hmm.." was his only response, calmly turning his gaze away and continuing with his exploration. He decided to head into the next exhibit room to get away from the loud, boisterous men to where it was more quiet. 

That is, until a hand on his shoulder halted his progress. “Hold up now, sweetpea. Ain’t I seen you before? Think I’d remember a face that pretty.”

“Hey, boss, check the ink. Wasn’t he on that-”

“Oh shoot, yer right!” The hand on his shoulder tightens.

He glowers the touch and was close to brush it off until he heard the men speak. Irritated, he snaps his eyes to the exits and notices the group has filled the room, blocking his path. They shouldn't have gone out after all. He narrowed his eyes in thought, he had to act quickly if he needed to get out of here. He couldn't say he was faster than a bullet, but he needed to try and figure something out. Maybe making a scene would summon a guard. 

One strike to the man who first spoke, under his arm to break his hold, then a headbutt to disorient. Hanzo then used his body to climb up and over to a nearby exhibit and leap off from there, grabbing a light fixture and trying to escape to the nearest vent. Four screws thwart his plan of a quick escape, but for now at least he is out of range of the grubby, grabbing hands. The 'boss' recovers, blood running from his nose down his face and into his beard.

“I tried being reasonable.” He draws his gun and in a single motion shoots four times. Elsewhere, voices begin to clamor as other patrons hear the noise. The four supports on the AC vent groan and pop as they fail. A woman breaks the glass on a panorama of a galloping cowboy lassoing a steer, then passes the rope to her boss.

“We can still do this the easy way...” He offers. Sirens blare overhead.

Hanzo grit his teeth as he holds onto the steel grates above him, hearing the grates fail to keep intact under his weight and threaten to fall. He hurriedly looked around the room for a weapon, any weapon. If he can find anything to use to summon his dragons, he could kill these bastard and get out of there with Genji.

"Kuso..." he hissed. This particular exhibit had nothing but vintage weapons, and if he wanted to summon his dragons, he needed it to fire. He quickly swung his way onto a hanging light fixture, a rough grab that manage to swing the fixture, one wire snapping and swinging Hanzo to the next one, making the previous fixture's last wire snap and fall to the ground below him, the glass shattering among the gathered ruffians.

He managed to swing his way on top of a class case and broke it to grab a display bow to help him combat his way out of the room. He only needed to pick off key targets, and he picked the door farthest from the main group which had the fewest goons blocking. He used the bow like a club against one man and whipped around to strangle another, using their body as a shield. He didn't need to fight all of them, just enough to squeeze out the door. Unexpectedly, an opening appeared and he sprinted for it without hesitation.

His mistake was taking his eyes off the leader. 

He has a fraction of a second to notice the lasso flying over his head before he being swept off his feet by a sharp tug, then reeled in like a fish. Hanzo swore when he felt himself hit the floor as he was dragged to the center of the crowd. Retaliatory kicks came with jeers from the gang as he struggled. 

“Dress this turkey in a hurry, we need to make ourselves scarce quicklike.” Belts and more rope are employed as makeshift restraints.

“Name’s McCree. Sorry about this, pumpkin’.” The last thing he sees is Genji, still dressed like a bandit, before a blow to the head renders everything dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genji is also a nerd. The fake names come from the Kaimen Rider Sentai show. Hanzo is the blue one.
> 
> I like comments <3


	2. Dealing In

McCree.

The name echoed in the spaces between his headache. He couldn’t feel his hands when he woke, both having gone numb from however long they had been bound behind his back. There was no light, but the air smelled stale and metallic suggesting some sort of storage room or closet. It was cold, and the floor on which he lay was made of stone or concrete. His feet and legs were also restrained with belts. His stomach ached enough to let him know that the dinner hour had passed. He had been careless. If he had been in his right mind, he would have refused to go out and told his brother about how dangerous it was. They hadn’t even altered their appearances. They hadn’t even been carrying weapons. Shameful. Stupid. Distracted.

He hoped that Genji had managed to avoid capture, and dared tentatively hope that they were not simply being held separately. He had a vague memory of Genji being present as he was taken but nothing more. If he was free, he would use his training and what resources they had to mount a rescue. He feels a chill under his heart as he considers and disgards the possibly that Genji wouldn’t even try. Hanzo, the clan would surely want back alive and the bounty that had been suggested may specify that. Genji, on the other hand, is only useful in as far as he could be used to ensure Hanzo’s compliance. It would be best if he could escape on his own and minimise the risk to them both. 

McCree. He had underestimated him, thinking his tatty appearance indicated equally low quality skills. But his aim had been precise, both with his gun and-he breathes deeply through the embarrassment-his lasso. What sort of strange, cowboy biker themed gang were these people? He sighed to himself as he lay alone in the dark, rhythmically flexing to return blood flow to his hands. He could feel that his hair was loose. The bastards had stolen his ribbon. Funny, how that was what made him feel the most vulnerable. 

With a grunt of discomfort he manages to sit up and scoot till he finds a wall to lean against. There is shelving, metal. He feels for anything on it within his limited reach, coming up with a neat pile of folded rags and a roll of toilet paper. A wild thought runs across his mind, that if he survived this, he was going to get a haircut and let Genji dye it like he always suggested whenever he came home with his own wild colors. Being held for ransom was just as nerve racking as running away from home; hurry up then wait.

From outside and some distance away is the sound of metal on metal and a motor, a roll up gate or garage of some sort being activated then the even louder sound of multiple motorcycle engines before they cut off one by one. Some number of people, at least seven but probably more, make noises of settling in; chatting, throwing down gear, finding entertainments. A distinct pair of footsteps grow nearer, each footfall accompanied by the sound of coins clicking together. He draws a centering breath. A door to the right opens, light stabs his eyes.

“Hey there firecracker. Looks like you’re still breathin’.” McCree. He squats down next to Hanzo in what he can now see through the open door into an office overlooking a mechanic’s garage. The door to the bay is still open, letting in the noise of the rest of the gang and some curious glances. In one hand McCree has a water bottle, seal intact. “Good behavior is going to get you some water, grub, and maybe even some aspirin. Bad behavior gets a lickin’. So! Which is it gonna be, hm?”

He looks at the water bottle only long enough to feel temptation begin to gnaw at him in the form of a renewed headache and a mouth gone tacky with thirst. It makes it hard to spit on his captors face but he manages, then sits back straight and eyes forward. 

McCree reaches for him and Hanzo has a moment of fear. The water bottle rolls away as he is hauled over McCree’s lap, one thick thigh pinning both of his and his torso held still by his bound arms. The first slap is loud. Inquisitive gang members stop to pay attention. Hanzo feels a curious pinch on the tips of his fingers.

“Don’t think you thought that choice through, firecracker.” Several more spankings land over the top of his thighs, down his ass, quick sharp slaps. Wolf whistles and catcalls mix with whipcrack sound of flesh on flesh. “Let me make myself understood here. You do what you are told, and you can have a nice relaxing time while I get a hold of your folks, work out some ransom. Misbehave, and I am gonna offer you some correction.”

He rubs the spots where his blows landed, working out some of the sting. “You understand me?”

Hanzo doesn’t think he has ever been more humiliated in his life. He grit his teeth and grunted with each smack against his ass, letting out a sigh once it had stopped. He had been a part of beatings before, both receiving and inflicting, and knew that the point of these gentle taps was not pain. He glared through narrow eyes. His pride was not so easily broken. He spat on the floor and growled “Jigoku he ike!” Go to hell!

McCree doesn’t react beyond a put upon sigh. “Yeah, don’t know what that means but I get the message. I know how to deal with little punks like you.” It takes a bit of doing, to pull Hanzo’s clothes out of the way but that done, McCree returns to raining blows down on the slightly pinked skin in such a way that it becomes obvious what came before was merely a gentle warm up. Hanzo yelps with unexpected pain before hunching in on himself and refraining from making anymore noise. McCree smacks hand print patterns down his thighs, quick and relentless then aims new swats on top of the old before the sting has time to fade. He cups his hand over the round globes of Hanzo’s cute ass, freely feeling him up, before the caress becomes another slap. 

The pain becomes bittersweet, chills tingling up his spine as his body reacts. McCree must be able to feel it, which only makes the humiliation burn brighter. He gasps at another smack, tears falling free of his eyes from the force of the blow and he has to struggle. Was this really the leaders usual method of discipline? Or did he just look like the sort of masochist slut that would react this way to it?

“Alright, good boy. You took your lickin’s like a champ.” Hanzo is pushed off onto the floor. His entire body is shaking. “Whew, next time you are getting the belt, my hand stings near as much as your pretty lil’ backside.”

McCree reaches for the rolled away water bottle, holding it up. “Last chance till morning. You want this?” He shakes the bottle for emphasis, takes the cap off and has a drink. “Discipline’s some thirsty work. You’ve gotten the stick, I’ve got plenty of carrot for ya.”

“I bet he can see that!” Someone calls out. Hanzo refuses to acknowledge their audience but he glances down before he can think better of it. McCree is tenting his leather pants, his enjoyment of Hanzo’s suffering very apparent and very, very big. He says nothing still, knees drawn up to hide himself as he turns his face away. How long had he been without water? Sense this morning probably.

McCree tsks to himself. “Stubborn as a mule. No skin off my back if you get too dehydrated to enact whatever daring escape plan you got cookin’.” The rest of the water bottle is emptied over his head, the cool water washing away dried blood from his hair and easing a bit of lingering pain, at least. “See you in the morning, firecracker.”

He stands, dusts of his pants and closes the door, leaving Hanzo alone in the dark closet once more. There is the click of a lock. A radio begins playing foreign sounding music in Spanish. 

Hanzo winces at the creaky door as he lays down on the ground with a sore backside and his pants still bunched up around the belts at his knees. He really was a fool. His escape from the clan hadn’t lasted a full week. His family would be informed of his whereabouts. Genji would try to rescue him and in all likelihood be caught as well. If only there was some way he could keep the cowboy from trying to collect his bounty, but with as high as it must be, there is very little hope in his conflicted heart. 

He lay in the dark and waited for the next time McCree would come.

 

````````

 

There has been activity on and off ever since Hanzo woke during what was possibly the next morning. People come and go, mostly on noisy motorcycles or in ancient cars. Some even sound as though they still use gas, meaning there is no law enforcement nearby. They must be some distance from where Hanzo was taken. McCree left with orders that “no one touches the goods,” but that was hours ago. He comes out of a light doze to the sound of the lock turning once more. It’s not McCree.

Four men he may or may not have seen before squeeze into the closet and haul him up. He can’t walk, bound as he is, but they do not risk untying him. He is carried to a bathroom and summarily told to be about his business. No privacy is offered. Instead of stuffing him back in the closet as he expects, he is plopped down on a dusty couch in the small office overlooking the garage. The coffee table has a full ashtray and a half empty candy dish. Hanzo’s stomach cramps painfully. It’s been more then 24 hours since he last had anything to eat. 

McCree enters the office with a cup of coffee in one hand, and a plate balanced on a tablet computer in the other. “Morning, boys. Firecracker. Y’all can go get your breakfasts.”

Hanzo watch the other men leave with a tired expression. If he survived to have the chance, he and his dragons will show no mercy to these vile cretins. But for now, there is a slight chance that he might be able to negotiate and he has to take it.

“You got a face too pretty for it to get stuck like that.” McCree takes a long sip of his coffee. The plate is piled high with American breakfast foods. He starts eating while reading his tablet, seeming to barely paying Hanzo any attention at all but Hanzo knows better. Minutes tick by, and the food diminishes bit by bit. It becomes apparent that McCree is going to force Hanzo to make the first move.

Hanzo sighs softly through his nose as he tries to patiently wait for whatever point McCree had for Hanzo. Clearly, the plate of food was suppose to tempt him.

“Not gonna bite, huh? Shuuu, I thought I knew from stubborn but you got em beat.” The empty coffee cup gets put down as McCree comes to sit next to his hostage. “I got something to show you anyway, then you and me are gonna have ourselves a chat.” His arm goes around Hanzo’s shoulders, and he holds up his tablet with his other hand.

‘Both heirs to the Shimada-gumi found dead following castle fire. Homicide suspected.’ Hanzo’s face looks back at him from an e-newspaper article. 

“Ain’t that interesting. I never did kidnap a ghost before.” Again, McCree waits to see if Hanzo will react.

Hanzo doesn't. He keeps still and breathes deeply. His heart tries to gallop out of his chest. Looking over the image he wonders what the remaining elders reaction has been to the whole situation. It must have hit big in Japan the night it happened. It was loud. Dragons were involved. The clan wishes for them to be believed dead. He narrows his eyes and looks at McCree with a still expression. "What... do you want from me?" he asked. 

He didn't like playing mind games; Hanzo, always being straight to the point. "You have me in your possession and my family must have offered a reward." He knocked the tablet out of McCree's hand with a sharp twist of his body and glared into McCree's eyes, "What do you want from me?!"

“Well, a few hours ago what I wanted from you was to knock you down a few pegs, have some fun, then sell you for enough money to buy a nice little island to retire on.” McCree leans back on the couch and plays with the end of Hanzo’s long hair with the arm still around his shoulders. “Now, might could be I could still do that. I’m sure your family would be mighty pleased to hear you were still kicking. Well, till they killed you themselves for pullin’ a runner, anyway.” He twists his hair around his hand, pulling Hanzo’s head back, baring his throat. 

McCree smiles, and places a brief peck of a kiss on his thudding pulse point.

“Or...”

Hanzo grunted quietly as his hair was yanked back, hope flowing like ice water through his veins. Or maybe it was fear. McCree hasn’t mentioned Genji. He just has to survive and by some miracle, escape. His tense body goes limp. “...I. I would rather you d-do not tell them where I am. What-” He swallows both his nerves and his pride, “-what would you have me do to make all of this go away?”

“Oh, good boy!” He gets another, more enthusiastic kiss sucked onto the side of his neck. It leaves a vivid purple mark “That's the right question.”

McCree leans over and picks the plate up, balancing it on Hanzo’s lap. A piece of toast gets piled up with eggs and bacon, then brought to Hanzo’s mouth. “Open wide, sweetpea.”

Hanzo looks down to the plate that was settled on his lap and looks up at McCree. He is being blackmailed into eating greasy American breakfast foods? He didn’t trust anything this cowboy did for him, but the pain in his stomach begged him to. He begrudgingly opened his mouth to accept the offering of food.

It’s slow and careful going. Each delicate nibble threatens to send crumbs or more falling back down into his lap, but McCree doesn’t seem to mind. He gets up, fills the coffee cup from the pot and offers that to Hanzo as well, till he’s had his fill of both. The dishes are set aside, then he settles back on the couch and pulls Hanzo under his arm. 

“Mmmm. I bet that feels better, don’t it sweatpea.” A lazy thumb brushes over his mouth, pulls his face around. He is held still as McCree’s mouth descends again. The kiss is soft and brief. 

He jerks a little at the descent of his mouth and recoils, "What are you doing?" he asks, a bit startled now, "Is.." he suddenly became angry, "Is this what you want? A toy?" He growls.

“Mind that tongue, firecracker.” He pulls on his hair sharply. A warning. “You ain’t worth that much if I’m not giving you back to your family. All you are is a pretty body. You got something else to offer? Then lemme hear it. Otherwise, you best work on convincing me it ain't too much trouble leaving you alive.”

Somewhere deep inside Hanzo those words hurt him more than he realized. He was angry of course, wanting to grab that coffee cup from the table and smashing it over his head if he wasn't restrained, but somewhere he felt his heart sink in his stomach and his eyes sting, though nothing fell. He swallowed back and didn't say anything, only having his body go limp and turn his gaze away from McCree. He didn't protest as the man does what he wants. 

He realized without his clan he was worth nothing anymore. 'Just a pretty body.'

McCree sighs, mutters something, and pulls Hanzo sideways to his face is pillowed in his lap. “Don’t act so snotty. I can be nice.” As if to demonstrate, he begins softly petting through Hanzo’s hair, gently untangling the knots. “Toy isn’t the word I’d use, anyhow. Hmmm...Pet. You get three hots and a cot and all you gotta give me in return is a bit of love and affection. Maybe do some tricks every now and then, heh. How’s that sound hm? You be my good boy?”

'I can be nice.' He could laugh. That's all he could ever get now and days, isn't it? Nothing has changed. Imprisoned once again and told that he would receive the bare minimum for his duties. Of course Hanzo looked unconvinced of any of these 'luxuries' McCree seemed to had offered him, and he wasn't so thrilled to be a step ahead of toy to being someone's pet. He just wanted to live a free life, but it seemed like this was just not something that was meant to be. Hanzo nodded forcefully, anything to get this man to be done with it and leave him alone.

“Alright, good, good, making good progress. You can call me ‘Boss’, or ‘Sir’ if you’re feeling fancy. Now I bet you are feeling a bit sore about your change in situation, so I ain’t gonna ask nothin’ much of you yet. Just letting you know, you take off on me I ain’t gonna hesitate to sell you out. Tell me you understand, and use your words.”

Sell him out? He wondered what kind of money the clan was offering if rough people such as these were willing to hold out on it. Hanzo was about to nod to everything he remembered McCree demanded words. "I understand." He said quickly.

McCree unerringly finds a bruise from the spanking yesterday as he brings his hand down, quick and sharp. “I understand, Boss! Try it again.”

Hanzo grit his teeth against another yelp and turned his head away. "I understand, Boss." He said quietly.

“That’s good. And good behavior gets a reward. I’m gonna let you loose while I work. You can walk around in here, ask for anything you need, whatever.” That said, he begins to pull on knots and buckles till Hanzo’s arms, then legs are free. “You try anything, and those love taps you got yesterday are gonna seem like a pleasant dream compared to how I’ll lay into you.” 

His arms flop uselessly, numbness being replaced by painful pins and needles as the seconds tick by. ‘How generous’ he wanted to say, but now was not the time to push. His threats only fueled his desire to see this place and everyone in it burn. The yakuza in him wanted this man in particular to suffer before the end. 

His breath rumbled as he glared daggers, "I understand, sir," he said darkly.

“Humph, I bet you do sourpuss. We’ll work on it.” That said, McCree settles back down at the desk where he was when Hanzo was first dragged in, and pulls over a manila folder. A few minutes pass and it seems like he’ll keep to his word and let Hanzo do as he pleases, so long as he stays in this office. Beyond the couch, coffee table, and desk, there isn’t much else. There is a map tacked up on the wall with a skull and chain stamped over it in several locations. Opposite that is the window into the garage. There is the open door of his supply closet.

Hanzo narrowed his eyes and turned his head away to look at the map at the wall. Controlled territories, it looks like. He got up carefully, fighting more pins and needles in his legs and slowly walking over to the map to investigate it. He wanted to get a good idea of his location, if he was still in the same state and what territories to avoid once he escapes and after reunites with his brother. He looks around the room again. Nothing viable as a weapon unless he wants to summon the dragons through some pens or paper clips. McCree would possibly keep something at his desk, which is obviously occupied. 

He steps around the office and looks at the supply closet he was kept in. He stands there for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Privacy and a door is all he can have, so he steps in and shuts the rest of the world out. He sits down on the floor and hugs his knees as he tries to think. He closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments for me, comments for me. I want them. I need them.


	3. Wildcard

People come and go, like yesterday. McCree’s voice is the most distinguishable, a deep and rumbling bass. Some protection rackets are discussed, the details of an intimidation raid on a neighboring territory, scores for local sports teams. The Boss of this gang seems personable and well liked, though Hanzo has personally seen the darker side of his personality when crossed. His first name is Jesse. The light has turned red with sunset by the time his door is opened again. 

“Like a gottamn cat.” McCree says, but not to Hanzo. Another gang member, the woman with the lasso, is standing nearby with a shopping bag from an American pet supply chain store. It is not reassuring. 

“Thanks Lee. Just drop the rest of it off in my room and cut off the tags.” He hands her a wad of cash in exchange for a receipt, and she leaves. Sans the bag. “Alright then. Have yourself a good day, darlin’?”

Hanzo doesn’t say anything at first; he just sits in the farthest reaches of the closet and looks up with an empty glare. “The solitude was thrilling.”

He slowly gets up and steps closer, tentative and leery of what is to come. His entire appearance is a mess, hair lanky and tanged and eyeliner undoubtedly ruined by yesterday and todays tears, complimenting the dark bags under his eyes. Sardonically, he casts his gaze to the bag and then to McCree, "You got me a gift?"

McCree tips his chin up and takes a kiss. He roots through the bag, drawing out a sturdily made leather collar with blue steel accents. “Sort of. Got a bit carried away buying you things. Gonna be fun getting you all dolled up.” He steps behind Hanzo, carefully fitting the band of leather around his throat. A chain leash with a matching leather handle is drawn out next and attached to the D ring in front. The bag is still heavy with other objects as McCree gives a little tug on the leash. “Come on, boy.”

Hanzo chokes his first, then second reaction and looks at the leash. His hands find the collar and brush his fingers along the material before feeling more of his pride diminish. He really hated this, but he could endure it. He tried keep a neutral face so McCree wouldn't be completely displeased. He gazes up, wondering if it would benefit him to thank him for the symbol of ownership “thank.. you."

 

McCree laughs, obviously pleased at the small show of manners and kisses him again, this time more deeply. “You sure are welcome, sweetpea. Come on now, you’re gonna enjoy this. I’m gonna take care of ya.” They leave the garage by way of the front area that Hanzo had yet to see, and exit onto a derelict old highway. A diner with the darkened neon sign above it is directly across the way, filled with gang members in leather and cowboy hats. They turn to the left and walk for a few minutes before coming across a motel. It looks just as derelict and run down as the other buildings they have seen, but lights shine out through several of the windows. 

Up a set of stairs and down a concrete strip of walkway they come to a door with a star painted on it, then the Deadlock symbol in red painted inside of that. McCree takes out a key to let them inside. Several units have been remodeled into a long narrow apartment. The wall between 213 and 214 has been knocked out for a combo living room/dining room, then a kitchen and another door added into 215 for what must be the bedroom. For all that far more effort has gone into the care of the inside then out, it is still the lowest accommodations Hanzo has ever stooped to.

“Right. You want a bath or to eat first, puppy?”

He perked up at the idea of being clean, until the unwanted thought that he would be watched filtered in. But still, a supervised bath was better than none. “I would bathe first. I am not hungry.”

“Hm, we’ll see about that. Let’s go then.” 215 was, in fact, the bedroom with most of the original motel bathroom left in tact. A wooden wardrobe takes up a good deal of the wall where the door either used to be or still is. In front of that, on the floor by the bed, is a large dog kennel. Hanzo doesn’t have any more time to look then that before he is jerked by his leash into the bathroom. The door closes behind him.

His collar gets taken off and set on the counter then covered by McCree’s hat. “Go on and undress yourself honey, I’ll get things ready.” 

That said, McCree strips the rest of the way naked in a few easy, unabashed motions then starts the tap. A brand new jar of blue colored bath salts is opened then added to the water. Other objects that look to be new purchases are a hairbrush, salon quality shampoo and conditioner, and a full mani/pedi kit with various moisturizers and creams. A brand new blue toothbrush sits in the holder. His hair ribbon sits, washed and folded, next to the sink. He chokes down his rising emotion to see it returned. He had thought it lost.

He turned his head away from McCree and began to remove his own clothes. His pants then shirt come off to be nervously dropped to the floor. The more time he spent with the large man the more he became aware of him. He gently brushed his hand over the tattoo on his arm and turned to look at McCree again with lowered eyes. Normally Hanzo wasn't afraid of being naked with other men, but given the situation he couldn't stop imagining increasingly dire scenarios. "I am ready." he says quietly.

“Aww, my firecracker is shy.” Far from being deterred, McCree seems elated. “Come on now, in the water you get.” He kneels down on the bathmat next to the tub, letting Hanzo come at his own pace. The water is just a touch tepid, which might be from a sub-par water heater or McCree’s preferences simply being different. Once he is in the bath, McCree takes his time running a (blue) loofah over every inch of him, then hand washing his hair. He presses affectionate kisses to the bottoms of Hanzo’s “wittle paws” before making inexpert use of the mani/pedi kit on his hands and feet.

“Alright, I’m gonna step out for just a minute to let you finish up anything else you need in here.” McCree pats the top of his head, then sweeps out with all of their clothes in hand. 

Hanzo feels...confused. He rinses under fresh water from the shower, listening to the far off groans of the pipes and mulling over the situation. He thought he knew what was expected of him, but he doesn’t know why McCree is- whatever he is doing. Waiting on him? Maybe he simply prefers his men to a standard he himself does not strive to maintain. It’s tempting to stand here and wallow in misery, but the hot water truly is atrocious. Genji will find him. He just has to wait. He breathes in, pushes his emotions back down, and gets out. A few tears while that man isn’t around are all he allows himself.

After taking a towel to dry himself he takes care of his bodily needs and hygiene. He couldn't stop thinking about that kennel in the next room. After he was done he sat on the closed toilet lid with a shiver. He didn't want to come out on his own and decided that until he was collected, he would enjoy a his brief respite. Hanzo had plenty of warning of the cowboy’s return, heralded by the whistle of some upbeat pop song he didn’t recognize. 

“Alright doll, supper's ready!” McCree pulls open the bathroom door. 

He had blue, satiny looking pajamas slung over his arm that he offered to Hanzo. There were dog shaped house slippers (not in blue, for once, but pink and cream. Genji would have liked them.) McCree is wearing boxers and a tank top with a hole right in the middle. 

“I dunno what you like so I made a few things.” The collar goes back on once he is dressed, but the leash does not. 

The middle room has a large round dining table set near the window. There are pancakes, rice, chicken, vegetables in sauce, burritos and spaghetti all laid out in a spread and just as many drinks to choose from. McCree takes the chair closest to the wall and waits eagerly. He wants Hanzo to like his cooking.

Hanzo stands and takes it all in for a moment, feeling another rush of confusion. This is not how you treat a prisoner. He took a spot at the table and sat down carefully. “Why are you doing this?”

“What, you were expecting to be treated like a red headed step child? Tsk, nah. I said I wanted a pet and I meant it. I’ll keep ya real good, sugar. You behave and it’ll be smooth sailing. Misbehave, and you get a punishment but that's just till we correct whatever behavior needs correctin’.” McCree starts filling his own plate. “Oh! How you say your name? Hanzo?” 

Hanzo’s temper flares, hot and sudden. “You are going to ‘fix’ my behavior?” He brings both fists down on the table, rattling dishes. “I am not an animal to be tamed for domestication! No amount of humiliation will change that! I hate you, and no amount of bath salts or food will ever make me happy being obedient to you!”

McCree frowned, but seemed content to wait till Hanzo ran out of steam. “You done?”

“No! I do not need your pampering! I do not want it! I will do as you say but I am your prisoner and I will not just-just let you pretend otherwise! My name is Hanzo!” He turned and stormed off to the bedroom, swiping only a bottle of water to take with him. Opposite the bathroom was a closet. He stomped in, closing the door quietly as the fire fizzles out on his temper and consequences for his actions flit through his mind in quick procesion. 

Moments ticked by, and he was sure any one would bring a furious cowboy down on his head but then more moments came and he did not appear. His heart slowly, slowly, began to beat normally. He hugged his knees and buried his face in them. Stupid cowboy. If he was going to be a prisoner he wanted to be treated like one, but McCree obviously expected somewhere in his filthy head for him to develop Stockholm Syndrome. He wanted to leave. He shut his eyes tightly. He missed Genji so much.

He wasn’t sure how long McCree was going to leave him alone in here or even why he was, so he dried his face of tears so he wouldn’t see. He had plenty of time to wait, McCree doing who knows what in the second room before the light coming from under the door winked out. The door opens.

“Alright, firecracker. It’s time for bed. Out with ya now.” The only light comes from a lamp on a small table on the opposite side of the bed from the kennel. McCree stands with his hip cocked against the closet doorframe, waiting. “I ain’t letting you out once we settle down so don’t go whining that you’re hungry in the middle of the night.”

Hanzo held his tongue. He wasn’t a child that would whine to him to be fed. Or a pet, he mentally corrected, that needed to be fed. He stepped out of the closet cautiously, looking to McCree. It seemed a punishment for his earlier outburst was not forthcoming. How odd. He stopped, waiting for the man to do what he wants.

“I know what you’re expecting, so I’m gonna lay out a few things so you don’t go worrying your pretty little head. I ain’t gonna fuck you or nothing for at least a few days. See how things go. But that means you aren't gonna be able to earn the right to sleep in the bed.” At this, McCree points to the kennel and snaps his fingers. “Kennel up, boy.”

Once Hanzo crawls into the space, McCree shuts the door and locks it with a padlock. He gives it a tug to make sure its secure. Inside is a fluffy down blanket, a dog bed that fills the entire floor, and a pillow.

“There’s a good boy. Here’s a treat for behaving good for me.” McCree holds out a chocolate square in two fingers between the wire slats. 

"Tch." Hanzo just turns away from McCree and just lays down miserably in the dog bed. He hates this. He wants to throw another fit for being told to sleep in the kennel, and he didn't want the damn chocolates in the first place. He would rather just take a beating rather than be subjected to this torture. Hanzo muttered some profanities at the cowboy under his breath. He lay in the damn dog bed, seething quietly and hugging himself.

McCree sighs in exasperation; the piece of chocolate is placed on top of the kennel, where Hanzo could reach it if he wanted. “Right then. Don’t get discouraged none, this is just the first day.” It’s unclear if he is talking to Hanzo or himself. “Good night, firecracker. Don’t make any noise. Uh, don’t worry if you hear gunshots, it happens. Unless there are a lot of gunshots, and hollerin’.” With that, crawls into bed then turns off the light. The room is cast in a faint green glow from an unset alarm clock, too high up for Hanzo to read.

 

````````````

Morning comes with the sound of voices on the other side of the wall. McCree sleeps through a solid hour of bickering, hollering, clattering of dishes, and till finally a loud bang causes him to rouse with a start. 

“KNOCK OFF THAT RACKET!” He bangs on the wall for emphasis, then drags a pillow over his head. “Uuuugh. Want a vacation.”

Hanzo was barely able to sleep. He was too tall for this cage; it wasn’t nearly long enough to accommodate the length of his body. He spent the night curled up and now is paying for it in neck and back pains. The slightest noise had roused him from what slumber he had managed, but as soon as the voices nearby had started that was it. He almost wished for the secure comfort of his closet instead of this wretched kennel. He watched expectantly once it became clear McCree was awake.

McCree is apparently not one of those fabled ‘morning people’. Waking up takes at least three position changes followed by catnaps, long joint popping stretches, and rucking up all of the covers before he gets vertical. Hanzo is ignored when he makes the short journey to the bathroom. After the sound of a flushing toilet comes the rushing water noises of the shower starting up. A much more presentable McCree emerges, bread trimmed and hair combed. Finally, he approaches Hanzo’s kennel with a key off the dresser. 

“Good morning puppy. You sleep good?”

“No.” He hisses, rubbing his neck and trying to once again find a position that doesn’t strain his back. His stomach is also once again displeased with him. “Is this-!” He gestures to the kennel, “truly necessary?”

“It sure is, if I plan to keep breathin’. Which I do. You want out, I told you how to earn it.” He pats his thigh and whistles. “Come on boy. Out you get. You have ten minutes in the bathroom, then we’re gonna do breakfast.” 

Hanzo is out of the kennel as fast as he can manage, standing with audible creaks and pops in his bones. “Hmph. I have to give you credit, it is a smart decision on your part. There is no doubt that once I am given the opportunity I will kill you.”

He walks past McCree with head held high into the bathroom and endures the gentle swat to the ass silently.

He looks closely at himself in the mirror as he brushes out his hair. His eyes are tired, and there is no makeup to hide his dark circles or wan complexion. He washes with the scrub on ‘his’ side of the sink then returns. Wait, his clothes. His old clothes have not made a reappearance so he only has his pajamas and collar.

The clothing problem resolves itself in a neat pile at the end of the (haphazardly) made bed. There are three pairs of underwear in different styles, a pair of soft gym shorts, and long soft pants with a drawstring. For shirts there is an old t shirt with ‘Yeehaw at the Hoedown’ against a faded yellow splash, or a long sleeved blue Henley. The door to the dining/kitchen area is left slightly ajar, suggesting that McCree is once again flexing his culinary prowess and mixed voices suggest that he has company.

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at the selection picked up the shirt by them hem with only his fingers. He expected him to wear this mess? He dropped them back on the bed and turned to look elsewhere. The man must have had something other than that disaster. From the closet and through the chest of draws he pulls out clothes until he finds a flannel that seems suitable enough. Of course the man’s taste run to costume’s from the set of a Western. The flannel fits his shoulders but is big everywhere else but anything is better than ‘Yeehaw at the Hoedown’. He put on the least ugly pair of underwear McCree had picked out and the sweats.

He perks up once he hear the sounds of voices so he presses against the wall to listen in on the conversation.

“-from the city. I had a new guy leave them in your office. Do I even want to know how much money you’ve spent on your new cocksleeve?”

“You don’t, Snatch. I’ll be the first to admit I’m getting a bit carried away, but I’m having fun with it so far. If it doesn’t pan out I can hand him over or put a bullet in him, whatever. Kinda attached, though.”

“Eh, he’s too pretty. Gotta have some meat to slap. You cut your hand on those boney hips?”

“His ass makes for spanking just fine, thank you kindly. I think he likes it though, was hard as a rock when I turned him over my knee yesterday.”

The conversation turns to business as pans clatter and silverware clinks. 

Filthy man. He lays in the center of the bed, luxuriating in the ability to stretch out on something soft. Maybe a little nap before he is fetched.

“Your ten minutes...Huh, damn. Left the new puppy alone and look at the mess he made.” McCree pauses in the open doorway, taking in the state of the room, clothes left where the lay after Hanzo had rejected them. “You know, I think I told you that you gotta earn the right to be in that bed, darlin’.” He strides forward and grabs Hanzo by the hair, playful indulgence gone. He jerks him up onto his knees, ear next to his mouth as he stands by the bed.

“So, either you are saying that you are starved for some cock, or that you are in need of a little discipline. Which is it, pumpkin?”

Hanzo struggles against the hand in his hair in a panic, hands grasping to alleviate the pain. “No!”

“Uh huh. Dealers choice then. Let’s split the difference.” McCree roughly presses Hanzo’s face into the pillows with one hand, and slips his sweats and underwear down with the other. “I told you next time you were gonna get the belt, sugar. Hope you’re ready for it.”

The belt makes a slithering, sliding noise as it slides free of the loops of his jeans, but the supple braided leather is used to secures Hanzo’s arms, elbow to wrist, behind his back. McCree only needs to reach into the mess Hanzo’s made of the floor to find another. “Lets see how much you can take, hm?” 

Hanzo grunts and looks behind himself, "Dish it out cowboy." He wasn't thinking through the anger that bubbled up hot and sudden. It felt good. Better than feeling helpless.

“Oh honey. You are a gem.” He kisses one pert asscheek, laves it with his tongue. “Not the time for it but babydoll, let me tell you. It’s doing something for me seeing you in that shirt.” That said, the belt comes down, painting a stripe over the kiss. The crack of the leather sounds microseconds before the second slap of contact. And again, no hesitation between strikes. McCree works methodically, covering each pale inch of skin in rosy, glowing red.

Hanzo doesn’t hold back the noises this time; gasps, yelps, breathy moans from what he would claim was only pain. “Looks-” He sobs from another hit. “Looks better on me!” Was that his voice? He was on fire and he could no longer tell if it was good or bad, only so so much of it.

McCree met that look with one of his own, and a cocky smile. “Yeah, yeah it does. You’re such a cute little slut, aren't you.” His free hand slips around his hips, finds Hanzo’s flushed dick. “Is this a cock or a clit puppy? It’s so tiny. Hm yeah, this does it for ya, doesn’t it.” 

Hanzo shut his eyes, stuffing his face against the pillow and panting. "F-fuck..." He turned his head to look between his legs and watch his dick disappear in McCree’s hand.

Another series of spankings lands while McCree softly strokes him, light teasing pets. “Can feel you shaking apart for me. Bet you want to come, don’t you baby?”

Some alien sound crawls out of his throat, some sort of pleading moan. The belt gets slipped between Hanzo’s collar and the restrains on his arms, drawing his back into a pretty arc and constricting his breathing. “You just hold that thought. Gonna open you up, give it to you proper. Said I ain’t gonna fuck you yet and I ain’t.” 

“No-!”He wriggles against McCree’s hold, fear bubbling back up. “Don’t, don’t!”

The bedside draw yields a package containing a brand new (blue) dildo, a half empty bottle of lube, and a leather and steel contraption that gets put to the side. “Don’t you give me any fuss now.”

He eyes the items and shakes his head, "Īe! N-no, I don't want that...!" Hanzo whined, "I do not want that!" 

An almost affectionate wide palmed slap cracks against Hanzo’s ass. “Don’t you just blow hot and cold. You’re gonna get what I give ya.” He slicks the fingers of one hand, shoving one in quick and rude. He strokes in and out, getting Hanzo nice and slick quickly, then gets in another finger so he can scissor him open. “Let me hear those pretty noises of yours now, baby.”

Hanzo shuts his eyes and shakes his head wildly, "N-no... I do not want-I’ve never-" he whined, wincing at the inserted fingers and letting out another hiss of pain. The tight ring of muscle gave weight to Hanzo's words; his ass at least was still a virgin, the muscle barely widening for Jesse's fingers and gave him a good amount of resistance. Hanzo let out another groan, this time is sounding pained. "Itai..." he whimpered quietly.

“Your first-? Hell. Oh fuck.” McCree gives a full body shudder as his dick threatens to spill just from pure arousal alone. “This tight little ass, just for me.” He pays attention to how tight it is around his fingers. Not resistance, like he thought, but inexperience. The motion of his hand gentles, seeks out his prostate to give him some soft lovin’. “Ok, we’ll save the toy for later honey. Gonna make you feel good for a bit.” He kisses his ass again, on the opposite side from before, makes his way up his spine with soft brushes of his lips and tiny nips.

Hanzo lets out a shuddering moan at the surprising gentleness, relieved to be granted mercy. His eyes spill tears once he found his sensitive sweet spot and made his body jolt wildly, "Hahh!! Fff-fuck..!!" His body shuttered at the constant brush of his fingers. He never felt this before, and he was disappointed that it was going to be with McCree, the man who would shoot him or trade him off given the chance. His lust and arousal clouded his morality though, only caring about being groped and spanked until he came.

He gets a gentle pat as McCree pulls his fingers free. “Yeah, figure that ought to do it.” The device that had been abandoned on the bed is recovered. Two straps go around Hanzo’s thighs, cinched tight. His cock is fed through the metal ring in the middle, then the belt like middle is drawn tight with the click of the lock. McCree locks his arm around his middle to keep him still as the last piece gets locked into place, the finishing touch; a stainless steel chastity cage for Hanzo’s red, leaking cock. Draped over Hanzo’s back, he murmurs in his ear. “Dealer’s choice.”

Hanzo looks down but can’t see. What? He hadn’t gotten to come! He needed it. He lets out a soft, hurt noise. When McCree makes no indication he plans to continue what he started, Hanzo begins to furiously struggle in earnest.

McCree rolls onto the bed and tugs his own pants down so he can get a hand on himself. “Hooo, if looks could kill. Uuunnn! Yeah, you gonna think twice before being a little shit, firecracker?” His lungs work loud, gasps wet in his throat as he jerks his cock faster and faster. “Mmmm! Yeah, gonna paint that ass of yours red every day, not let you come till you act good and proper. Get you so het up you can’t stand it, make you beg, FUCK!”

Tears run freely down his face and there is nothing he can do but watch as McCree pleasures himself. His dick is huge; absurdly so. He could wrap both hands around the length of it. He doesn’t want to watch. It makes him ache in his stupid goddamn cage. McCree’s hips rut up into his hand as he comes white and messily all over himself. With a contented little hum, he starts to lick his hand clean.

The air irritates Hanzo's abused skin. He turned his head to look at McCree, seeing him clean off his own hand like that; how lewd. He quickly turned his head away to avoid watching him, but the image was ingrained into his memory. 

Finally, Hanzo took a breath and spoke, "Is.. is that it?"

“Is that it, he asks. Whew.” McCree draws him in for a cuddle as the little spoon, beard scratchy as he brushes lazy kisses to the top of his neck and behind his ears. He loosens the belt attached to the collar and pets Hanzo’s flank in soothing circles. “Yeah, that’s it. Gotta keep my word, be consistent.” The last is said with the inflection of a quote.

They lay like that for a few minutes, McCree occasionally stirring to murmur soft reassurances, till eventually he decides it’s time to get up with a gusty sigh. “No rest for the wicked, pup. Up we get.” He liberates his belts, fixing his pants back up while Hanzo does the same. The key to his chastity belt goes on a little keyring next to the kennel key in his pocket. 

“Fix this mess while I heat breakfast back up, double quick now. You best not make me come fetch you again.” With that implication of threat, McCree left.

Hanzo chafed at the command. And at this uncomfortable thing! It pinches his skin and rubs against where spankings have left him tender. He swallows back anger and begins to fix the bed. He does it properly, taking off the sheets and putting them on again crisply. He picks up the clothes he threw on the floor and folds them neatly back into drawers. Living in his skin has begun to feel bearable by the time he is finished and slinks into the dining room to sit at the table in a slump.

The man from the other half of the conversation from before, Snatch? is there in front of a mostly empty plate. He raises his mug in a sarcastic salute.

“You stop that, he don’t need antagonizing.” McCree calls from the kitchen. He pulls two plates out of the oven and sets one in front of Hanzo and a bowl of mixed fruit of the kind that comes from a can.

“But I’m suffering here, jefe. I had to sit here and listen to all that. How about it, kitty cat? Want some cream with your coffee?” He cups his dick and makes an obscene motion with his hips.

“He’s gonna bite your piece off and I’m gonna let him.” McCree finishes serving up breakfast, then sits to tuck in.

Hanzo doesn't give the man another glance, staring only at the table until McCree had put the plate in front of him. He reaches out for the fruit first, taking the bowl and eating the syrupy fruit. He didn't like it, but it was relief to his stomach. If this was all he had. Still, he also needed protein, so he picks at the eggs as well.

Breakfast turns out to be a fairly communal activity. Snatch stays as other lieutenants drift in and out giving reports, exchanging gossip, snacking, and receiving orders. That must place his rank as above theirs but below McCree’s, like a waka-gashira. This probably also explains why it was so late in the morning when he was retrieved yesterday. For the most part, no one speaks to him and after looking enough to fulfill their curiosity, he is ignored. Others flirt in much the same macho, lewd manner Snatch had. The only one he had tried to touch thought better of it after a warning noise from McCree.

“Alright, go ahead and take off. I’m ain’t gonna be in my office till later. Send Lee or Nick as runners.” When McCree stands, everyone else does as well and quickly it is only the two of them left. He fetches the leash, a bottle of water, and walks out with Hanzo drawn along.

“Ok, exercise time. You seem in good shape firecracker, so let’s have a short warm up then a jog.”

He looks at the leash. At McCree. “...”

There is nothing for it but to follow where he is lead, the leash connecting him to McCree hanging from his wrist as they briskly set off. He more then keeps up to his own sadistic amusement and McCree’s embarrassment. It almost makes up for how he has to adjust his stride to avoid being hit in the face whenever the leash goes slack.

They take a break under a tin roofed bus stop on an old concrete bench. Sweat from the run and heat show though McCree’s clothes, drip from his hair.

Hanzo thinks of how his family’s criminal empire and this gang are vastly different from each other. He wonders who is running things now that both the heirs are ‘dead’. Maybe the elders had another puppet, one of his cousins perhaps. Far less simple than things seem here.

McCree is already looking at him when he glances over, raises an eyebrow in question. Hanzo sighs, quietly.

“How-” He thinks his question through, plans his words. “Why is this how you choose to use me?” He tugs the leash, thinks of the humiliations he has endured thus far. “You know that I was once a member of a criminal enterprise far larger than your own. Would it not be better to take advantage of those talents?”

“Fancy way’a sayin’ you’re a spoiled little prince. I ain’t hurt you none save yer pride. Couldn’t just let you go, could I? You’re worth way to much money, there’d be a riot. And as for the other, I put a gun in your hand, you put a bullet in me. So. I gotta keep ya, I might as well enjoy it.”

“So this is just-just business as normal for you then? Putting me in this, thing, the kennel! I would rather have honest torture that this!” Hanzo breathes in deeply, reining in his temper. He looks at the ground, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Worthless. A wasted life taking lives and stealing. In the end you will be dead, left in the desert or a ditch and replaced by anyone who knows how to shoot or throw a lasso!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna die hard someday. Ain’t today, probably. You feel better, getting that all off your chest, firecracker?” McCree searches through his pockets for something, then keeps looking when he doesn’t find it. “Ah shoot. Hm..Anyway, good on ya, trying to make a better run of it then what life handed ya.” He plucks a stem of grass up and puts it in his mouth, chewing discontentedly. “Guess we better head on back. Lets see if I can run all that way.”

With a click of his tongue, they set off at a jog again. The old crumbling road they are on goes through a tunnel in the mountain boxing in the abandoned settlement. From this side, one can see that it is rigged to blow.

Once again, it is odd. He had yelled threats and curses at the man, and again a punishment did not seem to be looming. What was the difference in what he did that merited them and not?

Hanzo remained relatively quiet the whole time, looking up at the noonday sky. He looked forward to going back inside. Perhaps this is what he deserves for failing as oyabun. He would just have to bear with it.

After a quick shared shower, they head back to ‘the office’. It seems that McCree is not in the habit of exercising in the mornings, if the inefficiency of having taken another shower first thing and his poor performance are anything to go by. A car is in one of the bays, either being scrapped for parts or fit with new ones, Hanzo isn’t sure. McCree lays on the couch with his tablet. 

“Oh! Uh, got you some things. In your closet there.” He waves distractedly.

His closet? ‘Things’ are a stack of magazines, a small handheld game system with pokemon already downloaded, and some Japanese sweets that he likes tied up in a new hair ribbon. How on earth did McCree know to get him these? He finds the answer under one of the magazines, a little slip of paper with kanji written in blue ink.

‘Genji is with you.’

He can’t breathe. Hanzo makes sure he is hidden from view, little slip of paper held in trembling fingers. Quietly, quietly, he gasps through his shirt bundled over his mouth to muffle his noise. As soon as he is able he hides the note on his person. A reasonable part of his mind demands he destroy it but the very idea brings tremors back to his fingers. He will. Just not yet. He needs it. He’s not alone.

Once he calms down enough to think, he sits once more with his back pressed into metal shelving. McCree knew there would be things in here, meant for him. Genji must have selected these things, they are too well tailored to his tastes to think otherwise. His first theory is that Genji has somehow infiltrated the gang, but how? And so quickly? The New Mexico heat, dry though it is, causes tacky sweat that sticks his clothes to his body. 

He thinks back to the last place he had seen Genj-no. His mind stutters over the thought, loops back. The Costume and Fashion hall. A glimpse of Genji, dressed...Dressed like a bandit. He giggles, hands clasped over his mouth, fighting down louder laughter.

“Pup?”

“You-your gifts are very entertaining. Thank you.” He grabs up a magazine to seem occupied if he is visually checked on. The rest of the workday passes peacefully, Hanzo surrounding himself with his hoard and eating imported snacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments. I want them.


	4. Bluff

They settle into a routine, days passing. Wake up, breakfast, ‘walkies’ as McCree took to calling it, then either office work where Hanzo would chose to spend time in his closet, or work elsewhere where Hanzo would be locked either in his closet or back in his kennel. Balking over that arrangement earned him another spanking. He aches from tiredness and a sore back, unable to find comfort or sleep in the small cage. And always, touching. Kisses on top of his head, shared showers and long baths where he is not allowed to clean himself. McCree pleasures himself without a care that Hanzo is watching. He has not let him out of the belt.

Hanzo watched through the open door of his closet, counting gang members, memorizing schedules, listening intently as plans were around discussed at breakfast as though he was invisible. With nothing major seemingly planned, and day to day business in the hands of subordinates, the life of a gang leader is very relaxed. Someone, either Lee, Nick, James, or Hotshot, would bring lunch near one, then he would be collected for dinner as early as five but sometimes later if McCree himself was still not available. He overheard some talk that McCree was delegating tasks he might otherwise see to himself to others in order to stay close to home, and he was sure he was the cause. 

On a Friday, the office is locked up when they leave. McCree had spent extra time finishing tasks in order to have the next two days for himself. Hanzo’s guts clench with terrible anticipation. He has not seen another sign of Genji. He regrets flushing his note away so it would not be found, already feeling the effects of days of isolation.

The worst of the heat of the day has passed, and they have a quiet stroll in the opposite direction of their morning exercise route. Another Deadlock claimed building comes into view, a strip mall with sun-faded imprints of old signs and graffiti on the walls. Inside is a makeshift commissary with various goods and entertainments, and several poker games and other gambling set up the upper storefronts.

Men and women sit in loose circles around the table, stakes low and uninteresting this early. McCree hooks the handle of his leash on the back of his chair and points to the floor behind him. The wall he leans against is splashed with old blood spray. 

“Deal me in, Tess.”

A few hands pass, and the tables begin to fill with a boisterous Friday night crowd. Booze appears. Hanzo nearly bites down on his pride and asks for a drink, but there is nothing here but unsophisticated moonshine and cheap bottled beer. Maybe as the night goes on his standards will drop. The more he thinks about later tonight, or tomorrow, whenever the inevitable will happen, the more he will want to be blitzed into oblivion.

He doesn’t notice at first, the man that drifts over from another table and takes a seat next to McCree. He sets a bag down under his chair. His hair and face are mostly covered by a wide brimmed hat and bandana, and the hair that he can see is blond. He antes up, then waits for the round to close. His fingers wiggle behind his back...waving? To him? He pulls up his sleeve. Green.

Genji. Genji!

He hopes no one is looking at him because he has no control over the expression on his face. Genji is dealt into the game.

The cards begin to slide across the table, taking up everyone’s attention. Hanzo glances at McCree. He is relaxed, cards face down in front of him, feet crossed under the table. He is not paying attention to him. Genji nudges the bag under his chair with his foot so Hanzo pilfers it, hiding it from view with his body. Inside is a magazine, food wrappers, empty water bottles and spent ammunition, and a notebook. He takes out both the magazine and the notebook, those most likely containing whatever Genji was trying to give him.

Keeping out of sight and quiet, he opens the notebook. There is writing in kanji on the first page. ‘I have a plan, don’t worry!’ There is a drawing of a smiley face next to it. ‘You do nothing. Stay on Boss good side. -drawing of an eye- bad.’ Then there is a drawing of Hanzo as a dog in a western themed jail cell. ‘Lock up bad.’

Had he not had any time to write out his plan? Hanzo would have to look and see if these types of notebooks were sold downstairs. If so, Genji might have purchased it on his way up, likey only learning of Hanzo’s location moments before. Impulsive. But maybe in their best interest. He would not be seeing this at all if someone else had taken the open seat next to McCree.

He sticks his hand back in the bag, looking for a pen to write a return note.

“Hey! You give that back!”

Hanzo looks up, startled. McCree’s eyes are on him, narrowed with his displeasure. He scrambles to stuff everything back and pushes the bag under Genji’s chair, mind wild with panic.

“I-Sir, I’m sorry. I-Was-”

“It’s fine, Boss. There is nothing in there that I wouldn’t mind him playing with.” Genji smiles, makes a no harm done gesture with his shoulders. Nothing wrong here. He exchanges one card for another, flicks another chip into the pot.

“You must be that new fella I heard about under Santiago. Good job picking out toys for my pet here, he really liked em.” McCree pinches Hanzo’s ear and points. He scoots till his back hits the wall.

For a brief moment, Genji meets Hanzo’s eyes. Then, he relaxes again, passes the interest off with a shrug. The tension left could easily be nerves, the first time talking to the Boss after taking his money in a card game.

“Thank you, Boss. They are just things that are popular. Your pet seems to get bored easily.” His accent is so obvious. Hanzo feels his blood start to pound. Three other players at the table, a dealer, six guns he can count among them. Genji is armed with small blades, one small gun. McCree’s holster is on his left, he would have to draw with the hand close to Genji who could get inside his range. The table will block line of sight but he does not trust it to block bullets.

McCree hums, a non committal sound. Someone folds, and the next person raises. “You make me up a list of some other things like that, I’d appreciate it. Let you pick out something nice for yourself while you’re at it for your trouble.”

Genji breaths out, slowly. Turns on the charm. “Of course! Do you think a collar will look good on me to?” He says with a wink. The table laughs.

“I think I will quit while my luck is holding.” Genji folds as well, packs up his little pile of winnings.

“Now hold on just a second there.”

“Ah..?”

“Got a name, kid?”

“Oh!” Don’t use the fake name, don’t! It was on Hanzo’s fake IDs that he was taken with they’ll know they’ll know!! “It’s Shinji.”

McCree tips his hat. Hanzo doesn’t breathe until Genji is out of sight down the stairs. Doesn’t dare to move. McCree pats him on the head.

“It’s fine, pup. I’ll make sure you aren’t bored next time. But no more sticky fingers.”

“Yes, sir, thank you. I’m sorry.” With another pat, McCree turns back to his game.

It takes a while, but eventually McCree gets hungry so they bow out and someone waiting in the wings slides into his chair as soon as its available. Someone loudly suggests that McCree ought to bet something a little bit more lively next time. Hanzo shudders.

“But then what would I get when you lose, Alli? I’m not interested in your weathered old ass.”

Downstairs, McCree lets Hanzo browse the shop for a moment and pays for his purchases with gaming chips, cashing out the rest. He finds a notebook, but can’t tell if there is another missing from the shelf.

“You tired? Could have dinner in, watch a movie. Or we could have dinner at the diner.”

This is not the first Hanzo has heard of the nearby eatery, but it is the first time that he has been invited. On one hand, he might find Genji again, or even get the chance to socialize after nearly two weeks of only McCree’s company. On the other, its yet another illusion of normalcy cast over his imprisonment, and he feels like any moment the gang is going to turn on him. 

“I..The diner-will there be many people?”

They step out onto the broken pavement. Under the light of a buzzing street lamp swarmed with bugs, McCree lights up a cigarillo. “Lots of folks gonna be at the diner for dinner this hour, it’s what I usually do. But its loud and crowded, I didn’t know if you’d care for it.”

“No, I do not usually like crowds. They give me headaches. My-” He stops. He had just been about to say that his brother was the social butterfly between them. He swallows. Lets the thread hang, incomplete.

“Not used to having someone around.” McCree blows smoke out into the darkness, the electric and moonlight playing over it. He glances over, some internal debate clear in his expression. A small smile wins out over his face. “Enjoying having company.” 

His when his cigrillo is done, he flicks the lead to get them moving back out onto the street.

Hanzo stuffs his hands in his pockets as he follows along, tracing somewhat familiar steps back to the motel. “May I-” He thinks better of asking, but the words are already out of his mouth.

McCree slows his walk till Hanzo is next to him, rolling up the slack from the leash. “No go on, shoot. Uh, that means go ahead and ask.”

“This life. How did you come to-who or what made you chose it? I was born into the yakuza, and I cannot say that I chose to walk a different path but. Family was more important, in the end.”

McCree doesn’t look angry that he asked, he even pleased that Hanzo was showing interest. Even so he took a moment to come up with an answer. “If I gotta put where I am on a who, I’d say it was the gal what recruited me. There was a lot of stray kids after the Crisis. Deadlock gave ‘em a place to earn a living, gave me a place after I turned out to be useful. Maddie could put on soft, make people trust her.” 

The far off sound of gunshots reach them and McCree turns an ear to it but it doesn’t have the back and forth cadence of a battle. Drunken loons out making trouble then.“She got powerful by recruitin’ smart. I climbed up the ranks with her till she caught a bullet in the gut, then took over as a lieutenant. Later on Overwatch finally showed up and thought it could just hang the lot of us for surviving while they was elsewhere. The old boss died, lots of the other senior guys too. It was a bad time. It’s not pretty, sometimes. But we take care of our own, more than anyone else would.”

“I would not have thought someone like you would be so desperately lonely.”

“You shut your mouth!” The words echo loudly. McCree draws in a deep breath. Lets it out with a gust. He opens his mouth to say something that gets stuck in his chest, closes it. Neither of them make an attempt to pick the conversation back up. He softly tugs on the leash.

 

He hit a nerve. He files the weakness away, ponders at it. The old leadership had all died off, or been arrested. It’s not odd for such a group to be comprised of young idiots, but now that he thinks of it, he had not seen a single person over thirty. McCree has lived hard but even then he wouldn’t put him out of his twenties. Somehow, Overwatch had missed the young people, the children recruits, in their sweep. Did McCree then rebuild the gang from the ground up? Was this Maddie someone McCree mourned?

He wondered now if his behaviors was due to his losses as a younger man. No one entirely sane would treat someone this way. He remembers the comment about him being a spoiled prince, and compares his life to one McCree has probably lived. It seemed luxurious looking in. But had either of them had a choice?

He looks up at McCree as he unlocked his door and murmurs, "I'm sorry for your loss." 

Jesse looks at him like he’s been shot. Wide, surprised eyes, pain. Then it’s gone, wiped away by a mask of impassiveness and a grunt.

Back at the motel, Hanzo is let off the leash in the first room and settled on the couch. McCree hangs his hat by the door and fetches a six pack of beer and popcorn for them both. He puts on a truly ancient movie, a Eastwood film that he had heard of. It was a remake of Yojimbo which he had seen, called A Fist Full of Dollars, which he had not. The man with no name plays two rival gangs off against each other, his motivations and morality unclear until the rescue of the woman held captive by one of the gangs. McCree keeps Hanzo close to his side with an arm over his shoulders.

Hanzo can’t help relaxing. It is the most comfortable he has been in days, and the beer wasn’t terrible. It didn’t taste like an American brand, less watered down with a bitter, satisfying bite. His weight sinking the couch pulls him to lean on Jesse as the film plays. He lets out a snort at the womans overacting.

“Is it not terrible this is still a practice? You would think that we would rise above such tropes from 200 year old films.”

“Aw, I thought you would like it. She gets away in the end and the mean ol’ gangs are left in tatters.” McCree puts his beer down on the cover of a new looking book. There is a dog on the cover but the text is Spanish, “Secretos del Perro Obediente.” Jesse’s thumb rubs along Hanzo’s collar bone up his neck.

“Hmm.” Does he sympathise with the cowboy or the boss, as he watches these films? Hanzo wonders just how black the veins in this mans heart ran, and reminds himself again not to be taken in by his fake kindness. It seems odd to use a book as a coaster. He reaches down to rearrange them.

Suddenly, he is pulled into McCree’s lap, more kisses raining down on his neck. “Watch the movie pup, you’re gonna miss the graveyard shootout.”

“That book..” He narrows his eyes.

“What book, that? It’s just. Pretty dry reading. Shh.” 

He squirms, but McCree doesn’t let him out of his hold, just settles him chin on the top of his head to keep watching, arms secure about his middle.

On screen, the woman breaks free and is given money to start a new life elsewhere. He wishes her better luck then he has had. He wonders where Genji is now, and hopes he is staying safe. 

“Mmm, you’re being so good sugar. Wanna make you feel good.” McCree slides a hand under another borrowed shirt, palm flat access as much hot skin as possible. He finds one of Hanzo’s nipples and pauses with a thoughtful hum. He bites above the collar, leaving a red outline of teeth. “You ever been played with here, honey?”

The pleasant buzz of alcohol clears in a rush of adrenaline. “N-No” His muscles go tense and breath choppy. Don’t attract attention. Genji has a plan. You knew this was coming. “I mean. Ah, I-”

“Dang, were those Shimada keeping you under lock and key to? How’s a pretty thing like you kept so unspoiled? Like you’re made just for me.” That is not what Hanzo had meant, but before, thinking him inexperienced had made McCree more pliable. And now, his hands play more gently, softly cupping his pec and digging his fingers into the muscle. It feels good. He stares at the the television, unseeing as the final scenes of the movie play. Fingers pluck at the buds of his nipples, pulling them to hardness then twisting gently. 

“Damn. Damn! Honey. Want to feel good, puppy? Tell me yes and I’ll let you out. Take you to heaven right now. Have you all spread out in my lap, leaning back into me.” McCree’s pulls Hanzo’s pants down, and he palms him over the steel of his cage. 

“Ah-uh, fuck!” It still feels good, his cock straining against the bars of the cage when full, small enough not hurt. He hasn’t gotten to come in weeks, since even before fleeing Japan. He had been too busy, too tense. He bites his lip, considering. It’s not like its a real choice. And he wants to feel good. “...Yes.”

“Oh, good boy.”Jesse pulls Hanzo’s legs apart till his knees are bracketing his thighs. “Just like that, yeah. Gonna play with that little dick of yours. Open up my shirt you got on, pull on these pretty nipples.” He runs his hands over Hanzo’s body, teasing them both then pulls the buttons of the shirt open with sharp jerks of impatience. He pulls the key out of his pocket, taking a few blind attempts to fit it to its hole then Hanzo is free; the rest of the chastity belt is unbuckled and dropped to the floor. Hanzo reaches down to rub where it aches only to have his hand caught and pulled away.

“Nu uh. You get what I give you, boy.”

The noise he makes it the most undignified sound to ever come out of his mouth, but what does it matter? This is the most undignified position he has ever been in, and only this damn cowboy is here to see him. He whines again, lifts his hips to chase touch where he needs it.

“Shh, shh, I’m gonna give it to you. Good puppy, settle.” McCree grabs him. He grinds up as he pulls down, setting a stuttering rhythm. Hanzo closes his eyes, overwhelmed and embarrassed. Just lets himself feel. Who says these sorts of things? There is a hand on his cock, finally, giving him what he needs. Another raiding the rest of his body. Instinct takes over. It was the only explanation for what he does. He turns his head, panting, and chases after Jesse’s lips for a kiss, moaning into his mouth.

Jesse jerks like a man connected to a livewire, pouring out a long, unbroken moan. “Baby, baby,” He gasps into kisses, not only pleased but eager to let Hanzo take them. He doesn’t stop shaking and Hanzo can feel him coming from the jerks of the cock under his ass and the feeling of wetness through the fabric. 

Then he deflates back against the couch with another groan, his petting going irregular and erratic. “Oh, that was good. So good darling. Come here, kiss me again.” Hanzo does, too close to the edge now to dare risk not being given it. His breath catches once. Twice. Three times and on the third he bares down against the shock of pleasure. He comes, spurting out over Jesse’s hand, more than he has ever come in his life dripping down in a mess over his fist. He can’t catch his breath as his orgasm doesn’t end for long moments and Jesse doesn’t stop!

“Please! Please! No more, stop!”

“Mmmm...I dunno. You got another one for me puppy? You’ve waited for so long.” Jesse pinches his nipple, gone sensitive and puffy from all his attention, his hand still moving with wet noises over him.

“Please! Sir! S-stop, I can’t please!”

“Alright, alright, calm down. There’s a good boy. Shush. We’ll see just how many times you can go another time.”

Hanzo shudders at the threat. Or promise. They sit on the couch by the light of the title screen of the movie until they both have caught their breaths, Hanzo rearranged to lay sideways on McCree’s lap and pulled against his shoulder. Regrets and second thoughts are on the other side of a wall of sleepiness, so he closes his eyes to face them another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Advice from puppy training manual, translated from Spanish:
> 
> You should keep new experiences positive, with challenges and distractions, but take care to avoid overwhelming your puppy. Bring your pup with you to places with activity, and invite your friends to help them get used to people. Exercise is important for both physical and mental health, and helps curb destructive behaviors. Be sure to acclimate your puppy to handling including brushing, bathing, nail clipping, and body inspections. Avoid exposing them to situations they are not ready for. Let your pup have their own space. It should have toys and treats, but be contained. They will feel safe if they have a place to retreat to. 
> 
> It’s tempting to want to comfort your pet when they act fearful, but this can act as a reinforcement for that behavior. Positive or negative reinforcement needs to happen immediately after the behavior to establish association. If you still are not seeing behaviors you want, you may not have found the right motivation. Consistency is key!
> 
> In other news, Genji is also a nerd.


	5. Offsuit

“Sugar pie, sweet doll.” McCree croons, other mindless endearments soft sweet and quiet. “You just didn’t want to sleep in the kennel again, didn’t you? Know how expensive that damn thing was...” Hanzo yawns, eyes closed. “Wake up, you pest.”

A slap on the ass brings Hanzo fully awake. He is under the covers, on the bed. In a cruel injustice, he feels incredibly well rested, warm and comfortable. McCree lays with part of his big body on top of him, arm around his middle and face against the nape of his neck. While he is still wearing his clothes from last night, McCree is completely naked. His morning wood is rubbing into his hip.

It seems like sexual contact is going to be a regular thing now, then. McCree kisses his neck again, groping his sides and down his thighs. Playful bites and nips appear among the kisses. The pale green of the still unset alarm clock shows it is inching closer to 7 am, a good two hours before McCree usually is awake. 

“It’s early. Go back to sleep. ” Hanzo tries, squirming free under the guise of stretching, joints popping all the way down to his pointed toes. McCree flops onto his back and brings Hanzo with him so their positions are reversed. Hanzo takes a moment to look down Jesse’s body. His chest hair is untrimmed, sprinkled through in some places with scars where the hair doesn’t grow. It trails down over the pounchy hill of his stomach to his equally unkept pubic hair from which his hard dick curves to the left, leaving a shiny wet spot on his skin. 

His stomach reminds him that they missed dinner yesterday. “I am hungry.” He says, quietly.

“Hmph, pets are so much work, dagnab.” He begins to stroke himself slowly and lazily, eyes slit open just enough to watch. “See something to your taste, baby?” 

He freezes, looking back down again incredulously. “You cannot think I can fit that in my mouth.” 

McCree laughs. “My cute shy little virgin. Yeah, ok, we’ll put that on the to do list. I’ll teach ya. Ok. Up.”

He sputters indignantly; is not a virgin! Anyone would be intimidated by, by all that! He lets his emotions show on his face as Jesse gets both hands under Hanzo’s ass and scoots them to the edge of the bed, then lifts him as he stands. He only shakes a little as he gets them both into the bathroom. This is the first time they have both done their morning routine together, so there is some clipping of elbows as they learn how to maneuver around each other in the small space.

Jesse picks an outfit for him to wear that day, gym shorts and a tank with yet another flannel over it to keep off the sun. After getting dressed himself, he keeps Hanzo close while making breakfast. He lets him pick what foods he wants, and even gets a cup of tea rounded up from a forgotten box in the back of the cupboard. 

Snatch shows up near the tail end of their breakfast, Jesse’s pants retrieved from the floor in the main room to get thrown in his face. “I’m not gonna be able to watch movies on that TV anymore jefe, knowing its soaked in your fuck juices.”

“Jealousy’s an ugly look, Jesús.”

“Oh get fucked.”

“Already did thanks. Settle down if you want me to make you waffles. Talk about payments coming in from-” They start talking over business, leaving Hanzo ignored as usual. Those words tickle his memory till he recalls, back at the hotel. Jealousy and Sultry Midnight. Unease and restlessness settle in his stomach while he listens like usual, critiquing the business practices he is becoming familiar with but never out loud. Maybe that should change. He needs to be useful in some other way if he is to put off-

“You are using accounts that are only one degree removed from members of your organization.” Talking stops, perhaps out of surprise more then respect so he presses on. “Such accounts are easily frozen without the need for a federal warrant. If you w- ah, I suggest that you put such a large amount of money in diversified stocks, trusts, and investments to prevent it from being seized in the event of an investigation. This will also-”

“Alright that’s enough, pup.” McCree reaches over to fluff his hair like the dog he treats him as, a fond smile on his face. The glare he gets in return is apparently amusing to the lumbering oaf, because he then laughs outright. Hanzo shrugs out from under his hand, temper burning. With tattered dignity wrapped around him like a shroud, he stands and makes his way back into the bedroom. Conversation resumes.

He wants to break something. Shatter the mirror, throw the fucking kennel through the window, shred every piece of clothing that, that-He can’t think of a word foul enough to call him through his rage, pacing and pulling at his hair. But he can’t. He doesn’t want that fucking chastity belt again. He doesn’t want the spanking that would come with it. Anger gives way to frustration, tears rolling down his face as the only release he is allowed. Footsteps sound on the walk outside. The lieutenant is leaving. 

He goes into the bathroom to hide for just a moment longer, finding a hairbrush to use as an excuse. He pulls hard on the tangles, delighting in the pain because he can control it, until the brush slides smoothly. No one has come to fetch him back. Breathing comes easier, he can feel his heartbeat slowing as he calms down. His temper has left him drained. He stands up from the closed lid of the toilet and looks in the mirror. He misses having makeup to put on in the morning. He misses Genji’s ugly novelty eyeliners. He can’t look at himself anymore, or he’ll start crying again. He sees his collar from the side of his eye before he flicks out the light.

Back in the kitchen, breakfast has been cleared away and McCree is putting on his sneakers, leash already in hand. 

“I got a job to do on Monday, so you are gonna have a keeper while I’m gone.” There are clouds in the sky this morning as they head out, keeping the heat down but kicking up swirls of dust as the wind moves with the approaching rain. They follow the routine and route of the last few days, McCree still lagging. He chats amiably about activities to keep Hanzo entertained for the two days he will be gone, and asks if Hanzo has any preference of lieutenants to keep an eye on him.

Hanzo thinks quickly, trying to banish the weary fog in his mind. This is a golden opportunity. If he can get Genji assigned to ‘watch over’ him, escaping will be laughably easy. But on the other hand, he would need to justify his interest in a way that didn’t attract additional attention.

“I have not interacted with any of them.” He demures. “What allowances will you give them over me?”

When they reach the bus stop, Jesse collapses down onto the seat to gulp down some water. He seems to be thinking it over. Rather then answer he says, “Fuck, I hate waking up early. I hate running.”

“Your breathing discipline is poor.” 

“Your everything discipline is poor so shut it.” McCree smirks. His unusually chipper mood seems to be holding. “Ok. I am gonna lock you back up once I leave. Ah ah! Hush I’m talking.” 

Hanzo closes his mouth, an angry tirade bitten off behind his teeth. “It’s for your own good pumpkin. I’ll leave the key with Snatch for emergencies, but otherwise your virtue is safe. Well, for now.” He winks as though knowing that he was being saved for his personal use was supposed to be reassuring.

Hanzo glowers at the shifting desert grit. Damnably, he is relieved. He will be protected for just a small price in humiliation to pay. 

“You’ll get some chores to do so you won’t be bored, but the routine shouldn’t be to much different then what we’ve been doin’. I’ll decide on your keeper and see how well you get along today and tomorrow. I’ll be expecting good behavior out of you.” He boops his nose. Hanzo weighs the merits of biting. 

They do not head to either the motel or the garage, instead heading past them both and the shopping mall to the diner that had been mentioned last night. The decor inside is retro, with a jukebox and faux classic posters along the red seating and laminated surfaces. Jesse guides him to sit at a booth, then slides in after and sets his leash down on the seat. It’s still somewhat early, his internal clock suggesting nine or ten, so there are few other customers. If that is what they are. Hanzo does not know what arrangement the Deadlock gang has with the proprietor. 

A waiter comes out, wearing a blue and white striped shirt and half apron to take their order. McCree orders a coffee “as black as my soul, Dave” and let’s Hanzo order whatever he wants. His order of a salad is met with a raised eyebrow and a glance to McCree. He tries again, this time asking for anything fruit or vegetable not out of a can. 

“What a precious princess. Don’t worry I’ll go put something together for you.” 

“We don’t exactly get fresh deliveries out this way, pup. But I’ll pick something up for you while I’m gone.”

He is given a jury-rigged shredded lettuce and other taco ingredients salad, with handmade dressing, and an oversweet cherry soda. As the time passes by, people in gang clothing come to sit at their table, heads and voices lowered respectfully. It goes very similarly to the daily breakfast meetings, adjusted for the disparity of position. McCree listens to complaints, adjudicates disputes, and gossips like a fishwife. Hanzo lets his attention wonder while the second Juan he has met today talks about the mess the barber had left his hair in, having finished talking about supplying the same man with illegal goods. 

McCree never stops touching him. He holds his hand, clearly visible on the table. He slings an arm over his shoulders. He kisses behind his ear while making ‘I’m listening’ noises to whatever story is being told. The one time Hanzo tries to scoot away, he ends up being dragged into his lap.

“Quit your squirming, puppy.”

“We are in public!”

“That’s the point angel. Letting everyone know who you belong to. Settle.” 

After the lunch hour had come and gone, McCree sets him back on his feet, signaling an end of ‘court’. There is the nearby sound of a horn, then noise and vibration as the train buzzes by. Hanzo hadn’t seen Genji among the group here though he had hoped. Perhaps he has been sent to town again.

“Got the whole rest of the day off, puppy. Got anything you wanna do?”

Hanzo glances over, surprised to be asked. “What is there to do, here?”

“Hmm...well, you’ve seen most of it. Not gonna risk taking you on a ride yet, and that puts going anywhere out. Shooting, again no. Uh..hm.”

He scoffs quietly. What a kingdom he has. In the end, the swing by the office so Hanzo can play with the entertainments in his closet, and McCree does something on his tablet while laying on the couch. The leash is left curled up on the coffee table. At one point Jesse gets up and goes out, leaving Hanzo alone and unsupervised. He slinks to the edge of his closet to look out, not trusting his fortune for this degree of carelessness. He sees no one.

This must be a test. 

He moves out further, crouched low out of sight. There is one car still in the bay, engine suspended above it by chains. There is also a motorcycle, big and black with a red skull decal, light shining from one it its eyes. He draws in a breath, adrenaline flowing as he weighs the risk, eyes and ears straining. His foot slides forward, light and silent.

The sound of coins clicking together. He ducks back down. The sound grows closer.

Hanzo slinks back into his closet before he can be seen, bitterly disappointed. He had hesitated. Has he truly been so broken down, so quickly? He had freedom right in front of him, and he hadn’t even dared to try. 

McCree returns, arms full of linens and pillows. “Here pup!” 

He is given them for his closet. How very cozy it has become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snatch goes by his nickname cause he doesn't like the name Jesus to be used for a thief. He is also one year younger then Jesse and a member of the original Deadlock gang before Overwatch decimated it. McCree is chubby cause they live in a food and actual dessert. This fuck fic now has like, lore and stuff.
> 
> Chapter numbers have changed cause some chapters got smooshed together and some are being put in a sequel.
> 
> Comments make me very happy :D I'm Gnomeicecream on tumblr


	6. Raise

“Doing great, sweetheart, keep going. It’s almost in.” Jesse rubbed his thumb along where Hanzo’s rim is stretched tight over the last, and biggest, of the plugs he had set out. 

“I-I can’t it’s to big take it out, take it-”

“Shh, shh, you’re ok. You can do it for me, pup. Breath in when I tell you, then push.” Hanzo takes in a choppy breath, gets soft spoken praise for it, then another. Resigned but helpless, he presses at the flat base of the plug. There is the overwhelming feeling of just a bit more stretch...then relief as the widest part finally makes it past, settling in tight and snug. 

“Beautiful. You were so good for me. You got a reward coming.” Jesse straddles his legs, pulls his hips back up from Hanzo’s relieved slump.

“Stop! To much!” He crawls on trembling arms up the mound of pillows set up on the bed, but doesn’t escape from the two hands holding his hips steady. He had been rewarded for the other plugs to.

“Naw, you can take that too, honey. Just one more for me, while we got this pressin’ on your lil love button, and it’ll be the best you ever had.” How many had he already had, while they worked him open with the smaller plugs? Two? Or was it three? Hanzo sobs, shakes his head. Jesse cups his limp, spent dick in his hand and begins to stroke it again.

It’s already so slick between his thighs that as soon as Jesse is done making him hard, he can slip his cock right in between his legs. He pulls Hanzo back by his hips into his thrusts, forcing him to feel the plug in him with each wet slap. On the first contact, he gasps. His prostate is already tingling from orgasm two (or three?) where Jesse had worked him on a plug till he came. Helpless, still so helpless, he lets Jesse and the bed take all of his weight, mouth open to pant for air; little whines and yips being fucked out of him.

Jesse comes first, having held back all this time, adding to the mess that Hanzo has already made of the bed. “Oh, doll, you are such a good boy.” He gasps against his back, pressing a kiss to his damp spine. “You’re just perfect.” He reaches under Hanzo to take his dick again, and doesn’t let go until Hanzo is howling and thrashing through another orgasm. 

It takes a while for the shaking to stop. 

Jesse makes sure Hanzo is warm as can be while they wait, holding him close. “Gonna leave this in a while baby.” He pats his rump gently. “Let you get used to it. Maybe next time it’ll have a cute little tail.” 

He carries him to the bath when it becomes clear that Hanzo isn’t able to walk, hand washing his hair then carefully giving equal attention to the rest of him. After washing each foot, Jesse presses a soft kiss to the sole. There is a fond look on his face when he finally draws back. He runs the back of his knuckles gently down Hanzo’s cheek. “There you go puppy. There anything you want?”

“I’m tired…” It’s hard to keep his eyes open. Hanzo wants to go to sleep and wake up somewhere else. He’s tired.

“Alright pumpkin. We’ll do something nice tomorrow though, ok?” Dry off, fresh sheets, then lay down slotted side by side. Jesse holding him close is the last thing he feels before he falls asleep.

Sunday morning, Jesse takes the plug out very gently before their morning run. Or what usually is a run. In deference to Hanzo’s soreness they walk at a gentle pace. Jesse chatters about his plans, hints about the shops he will be nearby to coax Hanzo into saying that he wanted something, and who he’ll be going with. He is familiar enough between yesterday’s and the usual breakfast meetings to be able to match some names to faces. Hanzo gives non verbal or monosyllabic answers until McCree pinches his ass. 

“Wake up! I thought we were past this sulking, firecracker. You weren’t this pissy after I touched you Friday.”

“You stopped touching me when I asked, then.”

McCree blinks, makes a ‘huh’ noise. “Yeah I guess so.” He breaks out a cigarrillo, thinks it over as he puffs. “I thought you’d-you know, were nervous, so. Break ya in easy. Sorry baby, I didn’t mean to push you harder than you could take.”

Hanzo blinks. Had he just heard? Yes, Jesse McCree had just apologise. To him, even. He struggles against the sluggishness that’s taken over his mind of late to think of how to respond. This behavior should be encouraged. “I appreciate your consideration. Thank you.”

Jesse smiles and pulls him into a hug, again surprising him. The kiss to the top of the head is practically normal by this point, though. “There’s my good boy. Precious thing. Alright, let’s head on back and meet up with Santiago. He’s gonna be keeping ya while I am gone, so we’re gonna show him how well you behave.” 

The parking lot behind the motel is cracked and dusty but in far better condition than much of the other nearby blacktops. Rooms on this side are occupied by groups of four or two to a room, depending on rank. It is directly in the sun, reflecting heat in waves. Those who are loitering around have chosen to do so in what shade there is to be found under tarps stretched on pipe or at stolen tables with large umbrellas while watching others play basketball.

McCree kicks the side of a shaded lawn chair to evict its current resident, then claims it for himself. Hanzo sits on the edge, the tops of his feet warming in the sun. The man laying in the adjacent reclined chair lifts a pink lemonade bottle in greeting. 

“Hey Boss. This your pretty kitty?”

“Hanzo, you’ve seen Santiago. San, this is Hanzo, my pretty puppy.”

He waves with his bottle, takes a drink. “Mm.”

Hanzo catches the eye of one of the basketball players who’s slunk off to the side. With a cap over his bad blond dye job, it’s easier to identify Genji. He nods, gives a slight smile. Hanzo risks a small nod back, even a smile.

“So that’s the plan.” What? Santiago has his leash. What? “Let’s see how he does for you. Go sit with San, Hanzo.”

He stands automatically, brain still rebooting. Follows when the leash gives a gentle tug. He darts a glance to McCree, who’s watching him closely. 

“It’s ok, go on.” He says, reassuringly. Hanzo realizes he is nervous and must look it. How far would this go? Was Genji still watching? Were the others?

On the other hand, if this lieutenant keeps him while McCree is away, Genji will have far greater access to him. He can’t do anything to ruin this chance. Santiago curls the leash around his hand, reeling Hanzo in.

“Sit, boy.”

He sits.

“Oooh, very good. Do you get treats when you do tricks, lil guy?”

“I’ve tried, but I haven't found anything he likes yet. Sweets don’t do it, but I gotta good feeling about fruit.” McCree reaches over to rub him on the head, looking proud.

“Shinji! Stop staring and go get me that bowl. I’ll let you play with the puppy later.” Hanzo glances over in time to see Genji/Shinji startle before taking off for the motel. 

“You-Mc-Boss has said no one is allowed to-” Hanzo stutters over his words and his panic.

“Yeah yeah yeah no under the belt stuff. But you and me are gonna learn some tricks to show the boss when he gets back.” Santiago winks, and Hanzo’s stomach sinks through the asphalt. Who’s belt are they not going under? How many people are going to be allowed to touch him? ‘I’ll teach ya’ pops back into his mind. He glances at McCree again.

“Don’t get worked up. You’re all mine.” Despite himself, he is reassured. And somehow Jesse was able to read him well enough to know what he needed to be calmed. He would be irritated about that if he had room left for other emotions. 

Genji comes trotting back, a large ceramic bowl in one hand, a pillow under his arm. “Here you go. Uh, you wanted this one, right?” It has pawprints on the rim. Fantastic. Another pet object.

“Yeah that’s it, thanks. Gotta make sure our boy here doesn’t get dehydrated. Whats-” Santiago makes a gesture at the pillow.

“The ground is hot? And dirty? So…”

“Good thinking. Get me another” he waggles his now empty lemonade “then we can really get started. You ok with just watching, Chief?”

“Unless I see something I don’t like, then yeah. He’s all yours. Make me proud, puppy.” 

A crowd has begun to form, people dragging their seats into a loose circle centered on their little group. Genji seems determined to stay close, trying to loiter casually after finishing his latest errand. Hanzo wishes he couldn’t see him. It makes the humiliation burn hotter. And now he mustn't bring down on himself anything that might cause Genji to feel he has to step in, ruining their escape when it was so close to being in their grasp.

If he is to be prevented from making a scene, it’s up to Hanzo to keep the situation under control.

Santiago throws the pillow on the ground next to him. Points. “Sit.”

Obediently, Hanzo scoots over onto the pillow and endures being petted.

“Off to a good start. Boss was sure you were gonna be fussy but look at you. Alright. Lay down.”

The pillow isn’t big enough, so he makes the choice to get his legs and shorts dirty rather than his hair as he goes down, leash given slack enough so he can do so. Then it’s a moot point as he is told to roll over. He does, onto his belly, throat tight with shame. His inner muscles give a twitch of complaint and dirt sticks to the sweat on his face and legs. He is called a good boy, and told to roll over again then sit. It gets easier, to retreat into his head and ignore the other voices. The specktators are enjoying the show. He won’t cry in front of them.

The bowl is filled with sour sweet lemonade. He doesn’t even try to pick it up when commanded to drink, hands fisted on the ground as he leans forward to lap it up with his tongue. 

“You’re doin’ good, so good.” That’s Jesse’s voice, his hand in his hair, holding it back for him. It feels better, when he calls him good. It’s safer. 

“Come on boy, one more trick. Speak.”

The acidic burn of the drink clogs his throat. He can’t. He shakes his head.

“Aw, man, that’s to bad. You almost made it. Guess we’re gonna see what punishments I’m allowed to give ya, huh baby pup?”

No, no, he can’t, he has to be good. He looks up, eyes foggy. Blinks, feels the wet fall down his face. Genji is shaking. He can’t let Genji do something stupid, not now.

“Woof.”

\----------------------------------

Jesse carried him the short distance back to their rooms. He can remember that, after his legs had been too shaky to stand on. He remembers warm water, gentle caresses, soft kisses. Then it skips to being wrapped up in a soft blanket, the tv going, head on a pillow and quiet music. Jesse feeds him, but he only remembers the motions of eating, nothing of the taste. He’d been talking to him, familiar words and filler chatter washing over him till he comes back to himself. There is a documentary on about the last samurai of the Aizu clan. His head is in Jesse’s lap. His hand is gently carding through his hair, the motion slow and easy.

The distance that had taken him still feels close, ready for him to sink back into it if he needs to. But he is better now. This is...fine. He closes his eyes again. Breathes deeply. The blanket smells strongly of detergent and artificial flowers. 

“How ya feelin’, Hanzo?” The hand has stopped.

He takes inventory of himself. Nothing hurts, though his limbs all feel weighed down. He is tired but not sleepy. “I’m fine.”

“Ok.” He feels a gentle scrape against his skull from Jesse’s nails, little skritches behind his ear. The documentary eventually ends. 

The rest of the day whiles by quietly, though it was already surprisingly late. When Jesse goes to bed he pulls Hanzo along with him and they lay there together in the semi dark, arms and legs entwined. He pretends he is already asleep when he hears Jesse whisper in his ear. 

“When I come back, maybe you could act happy to see me? I’d really like to finally see a smile on your pretty face, firecracker.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please give me comments I need them to live.


End file.
